


Something Left To Be Desired

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-22
Updated: 2006-07-22
Packaged: 2018-10-26 14:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10788567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Hermione finishes her potions assignment early and has nothing better to do for the remainder of the class.





	Something Left To Be Desired

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: All characters are Ms. Rowling's, I'm just borrowing them.  Thank you to my beta, simons_flower, for taking the time.  


* * *

            Hermione had finished her potion early.  That was not unusual circumstance, but what was unusual was that she had no desire to spend her free time studying.  She knew she had OWLs coming up and she _should_ be using this time to her advantage, but she couldn't keep her mind on academics just now.

 

            She pulled out 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi and cracked it open to somewhere near the middle.  She watched Snape from the corner of her eye and, when she got her chance, muttered the charm under her breath.

 

            She felt her hair being brushed softly away from her shoulder, leaving her neck and ear exposed.  His lips trailed feather-light kisses from her earlobe to the collar of her shirt.  She let her eyes flutter shut as her skin prickled with the sensations.

 

            Without seeing him, without hearing him, Hermione knew who it was - Ron.  She could feel him.  Only he could make her body hum like it was now, with only a few kisses in well-chosen places.  Who knew that a kiss on the neck could make her thighs feel warm and melty?  Ron did, that's who!

 

            He gave her earlobe a little nip with his teeth while his fingers traced her ribcage, moving forward under her arms, coming to rest below her breasts.  His thumbs teased the round fullness of their underside as he whispered to her.

 

            "You smell so good.  I love to smell you."  She sighed and let her head fall back against his broad shoulder.  One of his hands left its teasing exploration and began unbuttoning her blouse from the bottom up.

             When he'd reached the last button, he stood her up, turning her to face him.  As she turned, she glanced at Snape.  He was completely occupied with his berating rant of Neville's pathetic potion. All of the other students seemed equally preoccupied.  Even Harry wasn't looking.  He was fastidiously stirring this potion. 

            Her gaze then locked with Ron's, brown captivated by blue, earth held by the heavens.  She'd known those eyes for years.  She'd seen them full of mirth and laughing, she'd seen them become icy cold with contempt, and she had even seen them full of fear and despair.  But none of those familiar emotions were residing in the languid depths.  This emotion was new.  Was it lust?  Maybe.  Was it love?  She could hope so.  But neither of those seemed quite right.

 

            He put his hands inside her shirt and trailed his hands along the bare skin of her soft belly. He looked away from her eyes to watch his hands progression.  Hermione's breath was coming in very short gasps due to the anticipation and pleasure she was experiencing.  He watched his hands inch their way up.  When his fingertips encountered her bra, he froze and she let out a short, exasperated sigh.  He looked at her and she saw fear and curiosity in his eyes.

 

            "'Mione, can I…?" he trailed off lamely.  He was asking for permission.  She was about to explode with excitement and he had stopped to ask permission.  She supposed she should be grateful he didn't just forge ahead without any care for her feelings, but this was silly.

 

            All she could do was nod; words were beyond her capacity at this point.  She wanted to feel more.  She didn't know what to expect, but she wanted to feel it anyway.

 

             His fingers dipped underneath the fabric and underwire of her bra trying to wiggle his hands to cup her breasts, but the bra impeded his progress.  He tried again, a look of frustration and intent on his face.  When he, again, didn't succeed Hermione sat forward, reached around behind her and unfastened the hooks.  The cups sprung from their too-tight fit over her well proportioned breasts _and_ Ron's hands.

 

            His hands moved to cup her breasts and take their weight in his palms.  The heat being shared between their bodies was rising vigorously.  Ron massaged the full mounds in his hands and Hermione arched her back pushing more of herself into him.

             "Shite, Hermione.  I don't know how I ever lived before touching you.  This is brilliant!"  He lowered his head and took an aching nipple into his mouth. 

            The wet, hot contact made Hermione forget that she was in the potions dungeon and she clutched at his hair trying to bring him closer.  His tongue flicked over the hard, rosy peak and she whimpered.  Encouraged by the sounds she was making, Ron nibbled gently with his teeth and she sucked in a sharp breath.

 

            "You're so beautiful Hermione."  Those words struck a chord deep in Hermione's soul, causing her whole body to vibrate and sing.  He lowered his head to her other breast and repeated the treatment she'd liked so much before.

 

            His mouth was working tirelessly to please her but his hands seemed to have stalled.  She gently guided one of his hands down her abdomen until they encountered her skirt.

 

            In a great hurry, Hermione tugged her skirt up and pushed aside her dark blue knickers.  It was a mutual gasp of pleasure and shock that escaped their lips.  Hermione guided Ron's fingers to her sensitive opening and helped him in wetting his fingers.  She, finally, moved his finger to her swollen clit and gasped as his finger dragged slowly over it.

 

            Hermione was lost.  She couldn't imagine how she would live without this sensation when it was over.  She was as vulnerable as a newborn kneazle and he was taking such great care to be gentle and soft.  She loved him even more for that.

 

            Ron kept his mouth moving over her breasts, burying his face in the valley between and kissing the undersides, and her neck.  All the while keeping a slow and meaningful pace on her nub.  He teased her; flicking his finger quickly over it, then gliding smoothly everywhere but the critical spot.  Hermione rocked her hips trying to force contact but Ron avoided it.  When she sighed in agitation, he stopped altogether.

 

            She opened her eyes and looked into his.  He was nervous but intent.  She smiled at him to reassure him that she wanted him to continue, but she wasn't expecting what happened next.

 

            He used one broad stroke of his arms to shove the entire contents of the table onto the floor and turned her to face it.  Bending her over the table so that her passion-hot body was slammed against the cool, rough wood of the ancient table, he nearly ripped her knickers off.  Unceremoniously, he unfastened his trousers and plunged into her in one solid thrust.  Never had she felt anything like it!

 

            It felt wonderful.  Like a favorite meal when vastly hungry.  A full, satiated, complete feeling.  As if her whole life had led up to that single act of fulfillment.  Then he started to move.  Shock waves crashed over her.  She couldn't breathe.  She couldn't move.

 

            Ron's movements were quick and sharp.  Thrust after thrust he pounded life into her.

 

            "Merlin, you feel good, 'Mione."  His voice was no more that a feral growl in her ear.  "I can't stop, it feels so good.  This is amazing, you're amazing!"  His words weren't quiet, but she was the only one who could hear him.  He kept the breakneck pace for only a few more seconds before it happened.

 

            She was no longer sprawled across the desk in front of her; she was sitting on her stool, elbows resting on her knees, 1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi still held loosely in her hands.  Her clothes were securely in place instead of only half on.  Ron wasn't standing behind her making her body come alive with beautiful sensations; he was staring gloomily into his terrible potion with a defeated, resentful scowl marring his handsome, youthful face.  All of her ingredients, cauldron, books, and book bag were still sitting neatly on her desk; not scattered across the dungeon floor.

 

             But she could still feel the echo of Ron's lips on her nipples, and his fingers teasing her clit fading away slowly.  She could still feel the pace he had set as he pounded into her.

 

            The bell rang and Hermione nearly exploded from the room.  She nearly knocked poor Parvati over in her race for the door.  She needed to be alone NOW!  Where could she go and be completely unnoticed?  The Prefect's bathroom.  Every step she took was pure ecstasy as the jolts of pleasure shot outward from beneath her knickers.  It was also pure agony not to be able to shed her clothes and satisfy that primal urge of release.

 

            She reached the door to the Prefect's bathroom and nearly screamed "Spring Rain" at it, barely able to wait for it to open and allow entrance.

 

*****

 

            Back in the common room later that evening Hermione saw Fred and George selling their Headless Hats.  She knew she would have to tell them sooner or later, and figured she might as well get it over with now before she forgot.  But, seeing the large circle of students around the twins, she decided to let the crowd thin a little before mortifying herself.

 

            She purposely dropped into an uncomfortable armchair in a quiet corner of the room, opened her book bag and retrieved her Transfiguration homework.  She had barely gotten started when Harry and Ron entered the common room and, upon scanning the room, found her and pulled up decidedly more comfortable chairs to join her.

 

            "Where've you been all day?" asked Ron, somewhat annoyed.  "I needed help with Herbology before I handed in my essay before dinner, and you weren't anywhere."

 

            "Well, I'm sorry I missed being around for you to use my study habits to cheat, Ronald, but I was busy.  I, too, have classes to pass."  Her temper with him was almost unearned (almost) and she knew it.  Ron scowled and crossed his arms huffily over his chest, sighing.

 

            After a few minutes of book shuffling and rearranging of the common room's tables, the three began to plow through their week's pile of essay prompts and drafts.  Ron seemed unable to breathe properly because he kept sighing and tsking whenever Hermione did something to draw attention to herself.

 

            After about twenty minutes of this, Hermione finally broke down.

 

            "All right Ron, I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have been that short with you.  Please let's not be cross at each other.  Let's just get this done, all right?"  He looked up at her and nodded resignedly.

 

            "I'm sorry too; I shouldn't get hacked off  just 'cause you weren't there.  I should have asked Neville anyway."  His impish grin belied any intent to set her off.

 

            "What a way to apologize, Ron," Hermione said, amused.  It was then that she glanced over at Fred and George and saw they were counting money with Lee.  "I'll be right back," said Hermione.  She got up and strode purposefully over to the twins table.

 

            "George, Fred?  May I have a moment please?"  They looked up from their counting to see her intense stare.

 

            "Uh, sure, Hermione.  Let me just finish counting this stack and I'll be right over," said Fred, indicating his dwindling pile of coins.

 

            "We'll be by the window, Fred," said George, getting up to walk with Hermione.  "What's this about?  You look like you've got a chip on your shoulder."

 

            "I'm only saying this once, so you'd better wait for Fred." she said, steeling herself for the humiliation to come.  Not a minute later Fred arrived and they both silently, but quizzically, faced Hermione.

 

            She took a deep breath.  "Well, I finally found time to test that daydream charm of yours, and yes it works.  I wasn't prepared for the realistic emotions and sensations it would invoke, though.  I think the packaging should have some sort of warning label."  She thought she saw a spark of humor flash across their faces.

 

            "I have to ask if the charm opens the mind of the caster to their own secret wishes, or if there is some sort of randomized plot that is filled in with the caster's own surroundings and experiences?"  She knew she had a hard look emblazoned on her face, probably giving too much away, but she couldn't help it.

 

            Each of the twins wore a similar smirk.  "Both," said George.

 

            "And neither," said Fred.

 

            "What in the name of Merlin is _that_ supposed to mean?" Hermione scoffed.  She was _not_ going to tell them what their charm had done to her, but she was determined to find out if being ravaged in the middle of a Potions lesson was a desire of hers, or if it was a simple case of wrong place, wrong time.

 

            "You see," began George, "the charms are coordinated to a specific theme, but the content is based purely from within the user."

 

            "Yes, we have created a series of charms that when put in different pairings and order, set up a different set of circumstances for the daydreamer.  But how elaborate and complex the daydream is, and the entire contents of the daydream are completely open to the user's longings."  Fred was barely holding back his chuckles, and George had to pretend he was tying his shoe to hide his face splitting grin.

 

            "And which combination did you give me?"  Hermione wasn't sure she wanted the answer.  She knew how long she'd been infatuated with Ron, but how long had other people known?  Did they really know, or was she reading too much into their amusement.

 

            "Well, let's see, I think we gave you the current surroundings/deepest desire combination," Fred reflected.  "Why?  Where were you, and with who?"

 

            "Whom, Fred.  And that's none of your business.  Thank you for your time.  Yes, the daydream charms work, and no, I'm not interested in another one."  She turned away before they could question her further, but stopped and added, "I think they could be a bit longer too.  I was left with something to be desired."

 

            With that she strode back to the table shared with Harry and Ron, gathered up her books and parchment and went upstairs to her dormitory.

 

            "I think we hit the nail on the head with that combo, Fred," said George watching Hermione stride up the staircase.

 

            "Hear, hear!" said Fred, catching the way Ron's eyes followed the hem of Hermione's skirt.

  

The End

 


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